Real Thanks
by thegreatbluespoon
Summary: Stupid turkey. Stupid Grissom's aim. Stupid dog.


Canon facts officially suck ass, so here's something I made up- Sara _didn't _go away. And since she didn't, she's spending Thanksgiving with her geek friends like a nice person would, damn it.

Anyway, my day was just _dandy_ (sarcasm deeply intended), but the ep did help a lot. I hope everyone's Thanksgiving was awesome, whether you celebrate it or not.

Thanks to TDCSI for telling me random stories about Thanksgiving travesties that she heard on the radio. One horribly disgusting tale in particular inspired this. (Sorry about not putting your thanks in the first time, psycho.)

Random question with wicked love to anyone that answers it- wtf is that gobble, gobble red thing on a turkey's neck called? Those things are so icky looking that they're actually intriguing.

* * *

Deviled eggs, tofu something-or-other for Sara, freshly baked bread, pumpkin pie, sweet potato…something, and macaroni 'n cheese (as per request). 

All this and more was ready to be spread across Sara and Grissom's large dining room table as they waited for their guests (and still in the oven was the turkey big enough to kick your turkey's ass…if they weren't already dead, stuffed, and oven roasted). A feast surely fit for kings and queens, Sara had insisted on mountains of food to make sure that everyone walked away feeling satisfied from her home. Thanksgiving dinner would be the first time the group would be together as a whole in their home, and she hoped food would cure the awkwardness that was sure to come when they did.

--

The doorbell rang, and Sara nearly jumped a foot in the air. After Grissom laughed at her and got punched in the arm for it, she went to answer the door. Throwing a look and smart comment back over her shoulder at him as she made her way to the door, Sara failed to see the dog trek in front of her until Grissom pointed him out. With Hank acting funny all morning, Sara went into 'holy-crap-don't-even-breath-on-the-dog' super protective mode and ended up tripping in her attempts to avoid so much as touching a hair on him.

Hearing the commotion inside, Brass let himself in to find Sara on the floor and Grissom kneeling beside her.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Sara fell over the dog."

"I didn't touch the dog." Sara hissed as she rubbed her ankle. "I flipped over him and I _missed_ him, thank you very much."

Kneeling on the other side of her, Brass told her that her ankle looked bad. "You probably sprained it, my dear gold medalist."

"Well, _that's_ just great!" Sara yelled. "Everyone's going to be here in the next ten minutes! Who's going to do everything?!"

Taking offense at that, Grissom said, "Hey, I live here, too. I think I may be able to assist people if necessary, you know."

"Uh, actually…we're all above the age of five, so I think we _may_ be able to help ourselves out," Brass said, pulling out a chair for Sara while Grissom helped her off the floor.

"And I get to spend Thanksgiving just sitting around?" she asked when Grissom sat her down. "I don't think so. My ankle isn't that bad." She stood up and took a few stiff steps, then a few wobbly ones, declaring she was fine the whole time. "See? Damn fine."

"Fine until it swells up to the size of your head," Grissom warned. "Sara, sit down someplace until everyone gets here or I'll have Jim cuff you to a chair."

Brass grinned. "And don't think I won't."

Knowing she didn't have too much of a choice with both Grissom and Brass against her, she hobbled back over and sat down at the table, leaving them to finish dinner and answer the door.

Within twenty minutes, Nick, Warrick, Catherine and Lindsey, and Greg had all shown up, all unnecessarily bringing more food with them and poking fun at Sara's swollen ankle once their concern over it had been deemed pointless.

Lindsey made it a point to say hello and get out of the room full of adults as quickly as she could. It was bad enough being stuck in a car with her mother and Warrick for as long as she had been. Heaven forbid she have to listen to the ramblings of even more nerds for even longer than a road trip required of her.

While she vegged out in front of the television, Sara shouted orders to Grissom in the kitchen, demanding that he do about a million and twelve things, all while simultaneously not burning the turkey.

Grissom puttered around the kitchen while he listened to her yelling from the next room, muttering to himself wishes that she'd never tripped over the damn dog so that she could be in the kitchen doing things to her standards since they were so high.

Brass and Catherine took pity on him and went to help while the guys stayed behind with Sara.

"So…" Greg said noncommittally and looked around the room.

Nick and Warrick both cleared their throats and shifted from side to side as they joined Greg in looking around the room.

Sara grinned before she broke out in laughter at them. "Guys, it's fine," she said. "Ask whatever you want."

Having been given permission, Greg practically threw himself into the chair next to Sara's and began his questions. "How long have you lived here? You two buy or rent? What's the deal with the dog? What's the deal with his tail? I love his name, it's funny as hell. You think I could get a house around here? It's a big house. Your neighbors cool? Where's his bugs at?"

When his breath ran out, so did his questions.

Sara took a deep breath and replied, "Just over a year; it's all ours; I don't know what his deal is, but he won't bite; it's mean to hack off his tail, so we left it on; we also thought that when we named him Hank; I don't know, why don't you try; some are uppity, some are incredibly nice; bugs are in the basement."

"That's great, Sara, but this is weird as hell."

"What is? Being in a house with the two of us?" she asked.

"It's not so much that as it is being in a house that belongs to the two of you," Nick said. "A house that you two own…together…as a couple…it's kinda freaking me out."

"And me," Warrick agreed.

"And me!" Greg snorted.

"Well, I apologize for not telling any of you," Sara said, which earned Greg a whack from Nick.

"You said you knew, Greg!" Nick said. "She never told you a thing!"

Greg shrugged and went to deliver a smart comment but was cut off by the three from the kitchen bringing food in and asking for some help. Sara tried but they told her to sit down and keep the dog from getting what they'd already brought.

Lindsey joined her and slowly the table filled up with everything any of them could have wanted to eat that day.

Everyone but Grissom took their seats and he went back into the kitchen one last time to get the turkey. Making his way back into the dining room, everyone started their approving noises at the sight and smell of the large bird. He set it down, Greg made the comment about how it wasn't fair that Grissom could score too hot birds when he couldn't even get one for himself, and Grissom proceeded to cut into the turkey.

"Um…"

"That's…not, uh-"

"Why's it green?"

About half an inch under the skin, all the way to the bone, the turkey was green. The nastiest, most un-edible looking green ever.

"That's nasty!" Lindsey blurted out in a laugh.

Catherine smacked her arm and made her apologize while Grissom took the mess back into the kitchen.

"I am _so_ sorry, you guys." Sara said, looking like she was going to cry.

"We know, Sara. It's not like you'd serve that to us on purpose," Nick said, trying to calm her down. "There's plenty more to eat here."

"Thanksgiving isn't Thanksgiving without turkey," she told him. "You can all have some of my tofurkey if you'd like."

"Yeah," Warrick drawled out.

"I saw some spaghetti leftovers in the fridge when I got the deviled eggs out," Brass said. "I'll, uh, I'll go fetch that and see if Gil needs help."

--

While everyone ate their spaghetti, and Sara ate her tofurkey, the conversation proved to be a hell of a lot more comfortable than anyone thought it was going to be. The meal was like it always was between the group outside of the lab, the only difference was that they all knew they were sharing a meal inside the home of two friends.

Sara sat with her swollen ankle propped up in Grissom's lap, Catherine sat in between Warrick and Lindsey, Greg sat on the other side of Sara, and Nick sat between Brass and Greg. When Greg wouldn't stop feeding scraps to the dog and kept getting in trouble with Sara over the matter, Nick moved his seat to the other side of Brass.

"Greg, I _see_ you feeding him!" Sara snapped. "He's been acting weird all morning, so stop feeding him all this food!"

"But I want him to like me," Greg said and slipped the dog another piece of stuffing, wrapped in a hunk of bread. "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach…and it's a boy dog," he shrugged.

"Greg, are you hitting on my dog?" Grissom asked.

"No. But maybe he's acting funny because we all get good food, minus the Hulk impersonating turkey, of course, and he has to eat dog food," he proposed. "I think he's jealous and I'm just trying to cure that."

"Well, when he throws up, _you_ get to clean it up, Greg."

--

Sitting around the living room after they'd all eaten to the point of near suffocation, everyone had stated what they were thankful for- things like their jobs, their friends and lovers, the fact that every one of them were still among the living, Beer Pong, and the simple pleasures in life, like Ecklie's baldness because it always gave them something to laugh at and laughter is most important in life.

Just as Sara started to name off the last thing that she was most thankful for, the dog started hacking.

"Damn it, Greg!"

"Ew!" Lindsey groaned.

"Oh, that's not right!" Nick yelled and moved away from the dog.

Greg ran to the kitchen and came back with a roll of paper towels as everyone moved away from Hank, who was hacking more and more, making noises that would lead one to believe he was dying.

"I told you not to feed him all that junk!"

"Well, I-" Greg was cut off by the dog throwing up the biggest pile of puke any of them had ever seen.

Most of it…well, it was indiscernible bits of his Thanksgiving meal that shouldn't have been.

But one thing did stick out to everyone.

"Ohmigod," Sara said through the hands she'd clamped over her mouth.

Grissom's face was as red as red could be. He said nothing.

"_Well_," Catherine said with a smart assed tone. "Guess we know what you two are really thankful for."

"You two need to learn how to get rid of your condoms better," Greg laughed.

"Thank you, Greg!" Sara yelled, snatching the paper towels out of his hands. "You can shut up now!"

--

The comments were said, the looks were made.

After Sara cleaned up the puke and hobbled her way back to the living room, everyone made their terribly awkward excuses for why they had to leave, and neither Sara nor Grissom tried stopping any of them.

Sara and Grissom stood at their front door saying their thanks and goodbyes to everyone as they left, taking their plates of leftovers and their own thank-yous with them. After everyone was out it, Sara shut it, turned back to Grissom and gave him an icy look.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Opening on the waste basket is _this big_, Gil," she scoffed and made a big circle with her arms. "Learn to aim!" she snapped and limped back into the living room to see the dog chasing his tail like he would on any other day.

She muttered the dislike she had towards the dog for the time being, realizing that he was responsible for two out of three of the day's travesties.

Grissom came in and sat next to her and said, "I know what you're thinking, Sara. But it was the best day we've had in a long time if you think about it."

Giving him an incredulous look, she asked, "How the hell do you figure _that_?"

"Think of the day, Sara, and who we got to spend it with."

So she did.

Her day was spent with her family. The day might have been filled with pain, crappy and inedible food, and _dreadful_ embarrassment, but the day was spent with her family. Sara wouldn't, and couldn't, have picked anyone else to have shared it with, whether it would have been perfect or even worse than what it was.

She apologized to the dog. The next day, she made an appointment to get put on birth control. After that, she called all of her family and thanked them, just for being them.

* * *

I know this has nothing to do with the story, but I just took a couple of drunks home before I posted this…and there's _snow_ on the ground. Hells…friggin'…yeah, Batman. My day just got better. 

Review and add to my happiness. (Or you could just be a jerk, not review and add to my depression. If that's how you roll, then w/e. Enjoy Hell, you mean ass.) But seriously, you should review.

thegreatbluespoon


End file.
